


IV. Defining Guilt

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-23
Updated: 2006-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam owns up to their relationship. Fourth in the Defining Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

_**IV. Defining Series DEFINING GUILT (Supernatural D/S)**_  
 **Title:** Defining Guilt - IV Defining Series  
 **Author:** Shorts  
 **Pairings/Character:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Category:** Slash  
 **Word Count:** 3854  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Note** The links to the other parts of the series can be reached via my info page.  
  
  
  
  
DEFINING GUILT  
By Shorts  
  
The sound of the shower woke Sam and he rolled onto his back and stretched. He glanced at the clock noting it was after noon. The memory of his nightmare was overshadowed by the memory of what had followed between him and Dean. He smiled, remembering Dean's first reaction to his initial touch. If Dean had wings, he would have flown off the bed. Hell, forget the wings, he practically levitated all on his own.  
  
The fact remained that Dean had trusted him enough to allow him to continue. Even now, he was amazed at the intensity of Dean's orgasm. Other than some very deep groans, Dean was pretty restrained. But last night, Dean's composure slipped and he had actually shouted his name. A warm, satisfied feeling filled him, knowing he was the one responsible for cracking his big brother's self control.  
  
Dean bent his head forward, bracing himself with his hands on the wet tile and let the hot water run down his neck and back. When he woke up, his first thought, and the only thought since, was replaying what had transpired between them last night. He wasn't going to stand here and pretend that he had never thought of pursuing that particular road himself. But when it came to the special side of their relationship, Sam was always the one to instigate things between them, for the simple fact that it removed any stigmata of big brother taking advantage of little brother.  
  
Yet, something had to have prompted Sam to even consider adding this new element to their relationship. He knew his brother, and that boy didn't do anything without a reason behind it. There was the possibility that it was a one off and Sam might regret it in the bright light of day. He decided it might be best not to say anything about what had transpired last night unless Sam brought it up.  
  
Still feeling uncertain on where things stood between them, Dean finished his shower. Stepping out of the bathroom, his attention was automatically drawn to Sam.  
  
"Hey," smiled Sam, still in bed with the sheet loosely draped over his hips.  
  
Dean swallowed and forced himself to avert his attention by pulling out a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "Thought we'd grab a bite to eat and give the maid a chance to put in fresh towels." He could feel Sam's gaze searing into him and he turned slightly to hide the evidence of the effect. Bending slightly to step into his jeans, it occurred to him the view he was presenting and he ducked his head to hide the blush he could feel warming his face.  
  
Watching Dean dress, Sam noticed his awkward movements and the warm, smug feeling he had been basking in started to fade. His first thought was maybe he had hurt Dean last night without realizing it, and if he did, Dean would never say a word. He dismissed that idea as quickly as it came, his memory of Dean's reaction confirmed that pain had not been involved. Or so he hoped. Tossing back the sheet and climbing out of bed, he started to get his own clothes together, wondering what was going on in Dean's head.  
  
With his jeans safely fastened, Dean turned around. He studied Sam a moment, trying to see him with a stranger's eye. He still looked like he had been mauled by an overgrown alley cat. "Maybe we can find a drive thru or something, cause I don't think any diner is going to let you in, bro. Bad for business with everyone losing their lunch."  
  
"Bite me," said Sam, tugging on his jeans.  
  
"Sorry, dude," said Dean, returning Sam's grin. "I'm not the one into S & M."  
  
Sam flipped him the finger, but his heart had skipped a beat at Dean's comment. There were times he wondered if Dean didn't have a bit of the shine himself. "You don't look much better," he said, as he hunted for a clean shirt.  
  
"You'd have to be pretty close to see the marks on my face," said Dean, moving to sit down on the bed to finish dressing. Granted, the slashes were deeper where they started in his hairline, but pretty shallow down his forehead. He pulled on his boots, hoping they would escape the room before house cleaning showed up. It made him a little uncomfortable to have the maid see them leave, then go in and change the bedding. It didn't take a genius to figure things out with two guys and only one bed looking like a tornado had hit it.  
  
They drove down the main drag of the town, eventually pulling into a small diner at Sam's insistence that didn't seem too busy.  
  
Following Dean inside, Sam suddenly became aware of the covert, and not so covert, looks directed at them. As they would pass a table heading toward the back booths, conversations would falter, then resume in a more hushed tone. Slipping into a corner booth, he sat so the damaged side of his face was toward the wall.  
  
"Told you," whispered Dean harshly, leaning toward him. "There's nothing worse than curiosity in a small town. Especially when it's directed at us."  
  
"You're just being paranoid," said Sam, studiously ignoring the other patrons in the diner.  
  
"Oh, yeah? They're not just staring at you, dude," said Dean, hunching his shoulders. "That woman by the window? She probably thinks I'm the one responsible for your face."  
  
"That's just asinine," said Sam, frowning.  
  
"Oh? Then why in the hell is she still glaring at me, then?" asked Dean, sitting back.  
  
Sam tried to casually scan the diner, and sure enough, there was the woman staring daggers at Dean. When she noticed he was looking at her, she held his gaze a moment before going back to eating. The self satisfied feeling he had woken up with was completely gone. He had hoped to be able to bring up last night with Dean, but there was no way he was even broaching that subject here.  
  
Striving to blend as much into the wallpaper as possible, they ordered and tried to ignore the sideways glances directed at them. The food was pretty good, even if the atmosphere was strained.  
  
They both breathed a little easier when they were back in the relative safety of the car. Sam scrunched down in the passenger seat, and let out a sigh. "That sucked."  
  
"Could have been worse," said Dean, starting the car. "Whatever passes for the law around here could have shown up and started asking some awkward questions. I think for the next couple days, I'll get take out and bring it back to the motel."  
  
"Not a bad idea," agreed Sam, his tension easing as Dean pulled out of the parking lot.  
  
Instead of heading straight back to the motel, Dean cruised around the small town. He slowed down, scoping out the local bar. They still had plenty of funds, but if time allowed, he learned never to pass up an opportunity.  
  
Sam had fully expected Dean to at least mention last night, but so far, he hadn't said a word about it. "Planning on hitting this place tonight?" He had hoped that with them being holed up for a couple days, they'd be able to temporarily shut out the rest of the world.  
  
"Was thinking about it," answered Dean, as he drove slowly by the bar.  
  
"I see," said Sam, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.  
  
"What?" asked Dean, instantly picking up the tone.  
  
"Nothing," answered Sam, looking out the side window.  
  
"It's not like we have any regular source of income coming in," said Dean, finding a place to turn the car around and head back to the motel.  
  
"I know," said Sam, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "It's just that . . . "  
  
"What?" pressed Dean, intuition spiking at what was going on with Sam. This was one of the rare times they laid low, and it only led to reason that Sam would like to put their way of life on hold. Unfortunately, reality never takes a holiday.  
  
"Never mind, just forget it," said Sam.  
  
Dean's brow furrowed as aggravation rose to the surface at Sam's patent sulking. He glanced at Sam, but he was turned away and looking out the side window. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Highly aware of sitting side by side, but carefully not looking at each other.  
  
The car had barely stopped and Sam already had his door open and was getting out. "Why don't you go ahead and take care of business? Who knows? You might not only score at the pool table, but you could get lucky and score with the waitress."  
  
"Sam!" yelled Dean, but the passenger door slammed shut. Jerking the keys out of the ignition, he jumped out and chased after him.  
  
Sam had no idea where that outburst had come from as he entered their motel room. It was a given fact of life that Dean was like a bee to honey when it came to pretty girls. Never bothered him in the past, and truth be told, it didn't bother him now.  
  
Dean stopped Sam from shutting the door with his hand and shoved it open. "What the hell was that all about?!"  
  
Sam stood by the bed, his back to Dean. "I honestly don't know."  
  
"Sam, something is going on in that head of yours and you're taking it out on me," snapped Dean.  
  
Sam shrugged, helpless to answer.  
  
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to reign in his anger. "Does it have anything to do with last night? I'd really hate to think you were just trying to manipulate me, Sam, to make it even harder for me not to leave with you when you've decided you were done hunting. I at least know what I am, and that's not going to change. You're the one that needs to figure out what you're going to do."  
  
Sam's shoulders hitched slightly. This was not the way he had imagined their discussion of last night going.  
  
A long silence filled the room and Dean figured Sam wasn't going to answer him. He knew if he stayed he might say something they'd both regret. "I'm going out and scoring us some more funds." He took one more long, hard look at Sam's back and left.  
  
Closing his eyes, Sam cringed at the sound of the door closing. "That's not how it was last night," he whispered to the empty room. He sat down at the small table until the shadows lengthened from the setting sun. Unsure what else to do, he decided to take a shower, he found he usually did his best thinking there.  
  
He stood under the stinging spray, resisting the urge to scratch at the cuts on his face. He knew the itching meant it was healing, but he hated it. Turning his back to the water, his thoughts turned inevitably toward Dean. His words kept haunting him. He didn't want to think he was manipulating Dean, but he couldn't honestly say he wasn't, either. He knew why he had finally took that small step last night. It stemmed from his dreams, realizing that in each one, Dean was always there, ready to support or protect him. The idea that he could actually lose Dean forever had never crossed his mind until Dean had told him that if he left, that would be it. He'd be gone.  
  
Despite the heat of the shower, a cold chill ran through him. He wasn't doing himself, or Dean, any good with his lack of commitment one way or the other. Scraping off all the layers of excuses and illusions, what it came down to was simply he wanted his cake and eat it too.  
  
Guilt settled around him like a smothering cloak as he dried himself off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he wiped the steam off the mirror. He took a good look at himself and wondered if Dean could read the guilt he so clearly saw on his own face. He owed it to himself and Dean to figure out exactly what it was he wanted.  
  
Tipping back the bottle of beer, Dean drained it before taking his final shot on the pool table. He usually took a bit of pleasure in winning, but tonight he felt like he was only going through the motions. Gathering up his winnings, he made his way to an empty table and sat down. He barely noticed the waitress as she sauntered by him, giving him the eye. His heart wasn't in it tonight, instead his thoughts were on Sam.  
  
Shaking his head, he was disappointed in himself. He hadn't meant to mention what they did, or to be more exact, what Sam did to him, but damn it, why else was Sam being such an asshole? He owed it to himself and Sam to back off and give his brother the space he needed to decide what he really wanted without the distraction of their relationship. A wave of guilt swept over him as he thought maybe he was the one using their relationship to manipulate Sam into making the choice to stay.  
  
Understanding it wasn't going to be settled in one night, and he couldn't very well spend his nights separately from Sam, he decided he might as well head back to the motel and lay it out to Sam that that part of their lives had to stop. Maybe it would only be temporarily, or hell, it could be permanent. With his heart heavy in his chest he slipped on his jacket and headed out of the bar.  
  
The sound of the car driving up had Sam's heart leaping into his throat. He hadn't known if Dean would be back that evening, or if he had found an alternative place to spend the night. For the last six hours he had torn apart his soul to get to the bottom of what truly made him happy. To discover what it was that he needed to make a life for himself. He finally had the answer. It had been in front of him his entire life and he had been too blind to see it.  
  
Dean paused by the car, straightening his jacket as he braced himself for what was to come. Taking slow, measured steps, he walked toward their room like a man sentenced to a life of hell. Swallowing, he opened the door. He was startled when he saw Sam standing directly in front of him.  
  
Sam had no idea the mood Dean would be in, he only hoped that his brother had cooled off and was willing to listen. Without saying a word he reached out and grabbed Dean by the front of his coat and tugged him toward him.  
  
"Sam?" was all Dean had a chance to say before he was effectively silenced.  
  
Sam pressed his lips hard against Dean's, pouring everything he had into that kiss. He ignored the sudden tension radiating from Dean and pivoted them around. He snagged the door with his foot and slammed it closed without breaking the intense kiss. In one fluid movement he guided Dean back until he fell onto the bed, and quickly blanketed him with his body.  
  
"Sam, you need to hold on a minute," gasped Dean, jerking his head back and using his elbows to shift up the bed and out from beneath Sam. "Listen . . . ."  
  
"No, you listen," ordered Sam, following Dean's retreat and straddling him. "You keep telling me what you are, well let me tell you what I am. I'm your brother, your partner, and your lover."  
  
Dean flinched slightly at the last. He had never labeled what they did, or what they were to each other, in that aspect. He shied away from viewing themselves as brothers and lovers in the same mold.  
  
Sam didn't miss the expression that flitted across Dean's face. He ran his thumb over Dean's bottom lip, then cupped his face with both hands and leaned forward. "That's what we are, Dean. Lovers. There's no other word for it, and it is exactly what we are. We love each other, it's as simple as that. Doesn't matter if we say it or not, it doesn't change the fact of how we feel."  
  
Dean was speechless. Of all the scenarios he had imagined on the drive back here, this was definitely not one of them. He tried to get his mind wrapped around this unexpected turn of events, and figure a way to explain to Sam that they needed to end that part of their lives. He braced his hands on either side of Sam's hips, trying to find the leverage to lift him off.  
  
"You're always sacrificing yourself for me and what I want," continued Sam, not giving Dean a chance to speak. He needed to get everything said before he lost control of the conversation and Dean stopped listening. "The few times you actually said what you wanted, I shut you down without a thought for you. I always put myself first and you let me."  
  
Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hips and pushed, but only succeeded in shifting his brother off his stomach and directly over his groin. "Sam we need to . . . ," he started, but Sam interrupted him again.  
  
"When I was little, and I got scared, Dad armed me with weapons," said Sam. "But you gave me something more valuable. Yourself."  
  
Dean swallowed against the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.  
  
"When I chose to leave and go to college, you didn't stand in my way," continued Sam. "It must have torn your heart out to watch me leave, but you never said a word about it. Hell, you even offered to drive me to the station."  
  
"Sam," said Dean, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"All you ever wanted for me was to be happy," said Sam, looking down at him with a small smile. "But what about you? What is the one thing that makes you happy?"  
  
"You," choked out Dean, his resolve to hold firm against Sam turned to ashes.  
  
"And it's been me that has caused you the most heartache," said Sam, his hands stilling their caresses on Dean's chest. "I'm sorry."  
  
"You don't have to . . . ," started Dean, but was once again cut off by Sam leaning down and kissing him.  
  
"You've never made me do anything I didn't want to do, regardless of the cost to you. Except for one very important thing. You made me choose, and when it came down to it, it wasn't that hard to decide. I choose you and whatever life that is, as long as I'm with you." Sam bit his lower lip, waiting for Dean's reaction.  
  
For a long moment Dean searched his face, trying to see any hint of loss hidden there for giving up a future he had always said he wanted. "What about college? A wife and kids with a white picket fence?"  
  
"None of it means anything if it means losing you," answered Sam.  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Dean, hesitant to believe it, but desperately needing to.  
  
"Yeah," grinned Sam.  
  
Dean moved, rolling them over and pinning Sam beneath him. A feeling of freedom swept over him as years of always following Sam's lead fell away. He captured Sam's mouth, ravishing it with all the passion that he had kept locked inside.  
  
Raw excitement coursed through him by Dean's sudden aggression, and Sam willingly surrendered to him. Unable to say exactly how they came to be undressed, he suddenly found himself pressed skin to skin with Dean. Every touch of Dean's was electric as he moved down his body. He curled forward at the intense sensation as he was taken into the hot, moist heat of Dean's mouth. "Dean," his voice sounded faint even to his own ears.  
  
Dean concentrated on all the little signals that told him his brother was close to coming and released him.  
  
"No," gasped Sam, denied the release he was so close to achieving. He lifted himself up slightly to look at Dean and to ask why he had stopped. The hazel eyes looking back were dark and intense.  
  
Holding Sam's gaze, Dean slipped one finger into his mouth and wet it, then held it up. When he was positive Sam understood, he grinned.  
  
"Oh, god," said Sam, collapsing back on the bed. Despite being prepared, he still jumped when Dean lightly pressed the tip of his finger against him.  
  
"Okay?" asked Dean, gently circling the twitching, sensitive skin.  
  
Sam could only nod his head sharply, he didn't trust his voice. His entire being centered on the sensation of Dean's touch.  
  
Last night, Dean had the benefit of Sam distracting him from what he was doing. But Dean wanted Sam to experience this fully and he carefully pushed past the clenched opening. He own breathing quickened and his erection jerked in time to the velvet walls fluttering around his searching finger.  
  
Sam reached down to take himself in hand, but Dean encircled him first with his fist. Needing to anchor himself, he gripped the top edge of the wooden headboard and held on.  
  
Timing his finger and fist, Dean gradually pushed further inside. He felt the small bump with his fingertip and any doubt that it was what he had been searching for evaporated.  
  
A deep, guttural shout forced it's way past Sam's throat and his entire body jerked at the sharp flare of pleasure that seared through him. He was helpless under Dean's talented hands, and he shattered into a million pieces as he came.  
  
Dean milked Sam's orgasm all the way through before he moved and settled himself on top of him. He wrapped him tightly in his arms and slid his aching cock alongside Sam's spent flesh that nestled in a pool of cooling wetness. He used the slicked friction of their bodies to attain his own release and bonelessly collapsed on Sam.  
  
Finally Sam got his breath back. "Figures, I tell you I love you and you try to kill me."  
  
Lifting his head, Dean chuckled. "Technically, you never said the words, and if I tried to kill you, you wouldn't be lying there bitching about it."  
  
Sam snaked a hand down and pinched Dean on the ass. "I'm not bitching. In fact, I've never been happier."  
  
Dean shifted to get more comfortable and completely relaxed on Sam. "I aim to please."  
  
"How long?" asked Sam.  
  
"Huh?" Dean didn't understand the question.  
  
"How long before we hit the road again?" clarified Sam.  
  
"I'd say two more days," answered Dean. "Why?"  
  
"Just wondered how long we had to explore this new avenue we've seemed to have stumbled upon," grinned Sam.  
  
"Our whole lives," said Dean, a new and welcome feeling of completeness enveloped him and he knew it was more than Sam's arms holding him.


End file.
